


Making Biscuits

by Awkward_Dragon



Series: Atonement for my sins [1]
Category: Weak Constitution: Common Cat
Genre: Animal Traits, Catboy has angst about being cat-boy, Conditioning, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I didn't realize I'd been spelling biscuit wrong until I wrote this, I wrote this all within a couple hours while dodging holiday shrapnel and someone needs to stop me, It's fun and feel good for the whole family, Like actual biscuits, M/M, The boys bake and talk about feelings, They make biscuits, catboy, familiars are slaves and have no rights, fucked up magical society, fun fact, these guys are just so fluff compatable, this is lowkey a fix it fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon
Summary: Blue knows he does things sometimes that his Masters don't like.  They try to train it out of him, but the odd, instinctual behaviors stay no matter what they tried.  He's starting to fall back on those habits once again and it's starting to scare him. He's already proved to Kara that he's a less than perfect familiar, how will his Master take the odd little quirks that he just can't seem to shake.*or, where Blue is worried and Kara knows how to bake and show his familiar that he is loved*
Relationships: Kara/Blue
Series: Atonement for my sins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196435
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Making Biscuits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Weak Constitution: Common Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302013) by [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon). 



> hey guys. I know the chapter in the main work right now is a lot, but I want everyone to have access to fluff this holiday season, so here you go.
> 
> Love you guys so much.

Blue is sure there is something wrong with him.

There has to be.

There has to be a reason that he is feeling so terrible, still doing the wrong things, falling back on old... old problems when Master has allowed so much indulgence He’d never been so terribly spoiled, not by any other master, not even when he was new. Everything feels wrong, just like it always does.

It’s not appropriate to wish for more when in Master’s bed. Especially not this Master’s bed, where he could be cuddled to his heart’s content if he only decided to shift over into the man’s arms. Where he’d not have to worry about his sleeping form being taken advantage of. Stars forbid Kara give him another chance to prove himself. The man’s much happier treating his familiar like he’s made of glass…

And that’s just when the man is actually here with him.

Blue can feel the wetness on his eyelashes before he recognizes the sting in his eyes, the choked feeling in the back of his throat.

He shouldn’t be crying. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be crying about being in his Master’s bed, alone and able to rest. He shouldn’t cry at the thought of not being touched, not when he’d nearly broken into pieces when he’d finally forced Kara to actually try.

Master’s bed is warm and soft and Blue nuzzles into the pillows and forces his eyes closed like it will keep all the other sensations at bay. 

It’s stupid.

Blue shouldn’t be here. Even if he’s the only familiar in the house, favorite by default, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be laying in his Master’s soft bed when the man isn’t even here. Reclining on the bed doesn’t help his Master. All it does is prove that Blue is a much heavier sleeper than he’d thought he was. It proves that his Master would rather leave his familiar to lounge in bed than wake him when he rises in the mornings. It’s something that Blue already knows, it’s something he already has more than enough experience with. His Master likes him in bed, likes it when he doesn’t have to be forced into things, when he smiles and uses his voice and a thousand other things that Blue hasn’t figured out yet.

Still, there’s an uncomfortable weight in Blue’s chest as he allows himself to snuggle into the soft sheets. He isn’t performing some important task or fulfilling an order, he’s just being indulged. Indulged far past what should have been allowed.

It had been so easy. So terribly easy to allow this Master to treat him as he had. Kara was generous. And it was ‘Kara’, because his Master had instructed him to think of him by name, not title. Not call him, because Stars forbid Master order anything that would make his familiar uncomfortable, only allow the idea into his mind.

Kara was generous.

Obscenely so. It was easy to allow the gentle touches, the scratches behind Blue’s ears, the way he’d act with purposeful calm as he stroked Blue’s hair until they could both breathe easy.

And it might have been easy to continue that way, if not for the… the old habits rearing their ugly head again, to remind Blue just how little he deserves the life he’s been living.

They had been happening more and more often lately. The lapses in judgement, the odd, bothersome behaviors that Blue had been falling back on. His masters had tried to train the behaviors out of him at one point or another. They’d done their best and Blue had been… unfixable. They did what they could but Blue was never blind to the disappointment, the judgment. It really only left one conclusion. Blue is sure.

There has to be something wrong with him.

There was no other explanation for how much he’s been falling back on his old habits. His bad habits… not that there were any good ones.

He wasn’t a good pet. That was evidenced by the fact that he had habits at all. A good pet should be able to conform to their master’s wants, their needs. They shouldn’t have habits, patterns that were hard to break- that might inconvenience the master that hadn’t trained it into them. They should be malleable, pleasing. They should be able to serve their current master like they were the only one they had ever served.

He’d gotten in trouble for it before. Usually in the first few days. The days of growing pains and critical eyes as they try to find exactly what your place in the household might be. Those habits, those bad, bad habits present themselves and the master decides if it’s something they like or if it’s worth the time it will take to train it out 

of him.

Patterns, habits, expectations- they’re all different. Depending on so many things, depending on the type of master you have, the kind of behavior they want from you, how functional they need you to be, how much they want to see you. It’s terrifying.

_It’s always terrifying._

Though Blue has to admit it’s been more terrifying in recent years. New masters that see less and less worth in him. More masters on his record that have returned him for one reason or the other. 

Returns don’t get treated too well. Blue knows that firsthand. He’d been lucky for the first few times. He’d been passed around among people who knew each other; he never had to go through an official trader, a marketplace or training center. He’d gotten the chance to know who he was going to, they’d talked to each other about it, trading their toys and giving pointers on all the fun that could be had with their particular favorites. Blue can remember the meeting rooms, the first game that had their papers shuffled and drawn at random like it was a game. The drunken giggling as the masters revealed their lots, the cloying smoke that had burned his eyes.

It was different after he’d gotten his arm broken.

It wasn’t his fault, though he later understood why it was his mistake, but that hadn’t mattered. He’d been the one to take the tumble down the stairs. He’d been stupid back then, still was, but stupid with even less experience. He’d always told Chef when he was sick, when he’d gotten hurt. The man had been kind, accommodating and gentle, and Blue hadn’t had reason to distrust the house steward who had so neatly filled the role in his new house. 

Apparently, it had been wrong. Apparently, he’d acted as a spoiled child, crying at the littlest things when it had been his fault he’d gotten hurt. The other pets had told him that night that he should have come to them first, that he should have concealed the injury until their master’s ire cooled and he could ask for proper treatment if it was not healing well. Instead, the house steward had dutifully reported the injury and he’d been sent to a new residence the next day while another pet was chosen for the game of lots the masters played and Blue had lost any chance of going back to his original house.

The new master had been pleased with him, but not his injury. He’d sold him off without a second thought, to a proper trader for the first time in his life.

The thought forces his eyes open. He can’t think of the caravan, not when his eyes are closed and his mind’s been playing tricks on him. He looks at the window, at the light streaming in, at his Master’s cozy room with its books stuffed haphazardly into the shelves and organized clutter sprinkled around the desk. He’s not there. He’s in his Master’s room, in his Master’s bed.

Indulging in his bad habits.

Blue sits up as fast as he can, pulling his hands away from the pillow he’s been kneading. It’s stupid, such a stupid little nervous tick, but it’s something that he’s never been able to kick. The gesture is soothing, not that Blue ever really understood why. All he knows is that it is soothing, meditative. It pulls at his mind and lets him focus on solitary sensations for however long he keeps it up. The soft pillow cushions are perfect for his little habit. He is used to stealing moments, to comforting himself in his allotments of freetime or taking it out of the time he ought to be asleep. 

It’s a bothersome habit. That, most of his Masters had agreed on. Blue tries to keep it to himself, only allowing the shameful behavior when he’s alone, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Blue’s face burns at the thought that he hadn’t even been able to keep his bad habit from his Master’s bedroom. His first night here he’d kneaded into the soft comforter and in the days after, he’d pulled pillows close and squeezed them, trying to stave off the instinct by keeping his hands busy, but as his mind wandered his body moved of its own accord.

It’s not his only bad habit, but it is one of the most noticeable.

The scratching is probably the worst. It’s obvious and it leaves marks, so if his Master doesn’t catch him in the act he can still see his disobedience. Kara had already seen to that. He’d told Blue not to do it more than once, reminded him when he broke the simple rule, treated the superficial wounds with a care they were not due and even took it upon himself to shorten Blue’s nails so that it would be less of a problem.

Blue looks down at where his hands lie in his lap. His nails are growing back. It really was just a trim, as his Master had assured him. Just a trim. He’d never seen the alternative, but he’d heard horror stories of owners who didn’t like to deal with the trouble or pets who used their claws aggressively. He’d heard that they took the tips of their fingers clean off so that it would no longer be troublesome.

His Master wouldn’t do that. _Kara, he reminds himself, as though his Master could check inside his head to see if he was following his command to think informally. Kara wouldn’t do that. He’d liked the clipping, he’d said something about it being a good excuse to hold Blue’s hand. Kara had taken his time and soothed his familiar with word and deed. The man wouldn’t do something so drastic without a reason._

Blue can’t help but chuckle at his own logic. 

_Yes, the only person I've ever hurt with my nails was myself._

Shame curls in Blue’s gut as he remembers what he’d done. The things that don’t make sense to anyone but himself. 

There’s so many odd little habits that come so naturally to him. So many little things that drove his old masters so crazy. He’d liked to climb, back when he was small and he could go out with Chef. He’d been pretty good at it too, much to the man’s constant fear that he’d crack his head open if he fell. And then there was the odd impulse to fit himself into tight spaces. Cages hadn’t been the comforting spaces they were supposed to be since master Trainer, but that didn’t mean that other tight spaces weren’t still nice. 

Then there’s the odd, instinctual pleasure in bringing things to his owner, even when it’s not requested. It’ been more troublesome in the past week, when Kara would shut himself in his little workroom, doing assignments or Stars know what.

It was easy for Blue to dismiss at first. It might not have been an order or a request, but Kara became so engrossed in his work that he often forgot to eat, needed to be reminded to sleep. Blue didn’t even have to do much. Whatever was taking his Master’s focus was still new. It must be a long term project, something Kara was only getting started on early because he cared so deeply about his studies. The gentle reminders were enough.

He almost felt bad for the man. Whenever he brought up a break or a meal he always seemed to apologize. He’d check Blue over and ask him if anything happened while he’d been occupied in the workshop, ask if he’d gotten enough to eat, if he was sleeping well. 

  
_It was bizarre._

The next logical step was Blue bringing food down for his Master himself. It had been so perfectly logical that he’d ignored everything else. It was easy. It was innocent. Even still, Blue can differentiate the pull of instinct.

It felt good to bring things to his Master, little gifts to ensure he was eating properly. A thank you for all the care he’d dedicated to his familiar in those early days. Only that was wrong. So very wrong that it has Blue wrapping his arms around himself so that he cannot dig himself any deeper by scratching again. 

_It’s all Master’s._ He knows that logically. There’s nothing he could give in this house as a gift that wouldn’t have been Master’s originally. Not even himself. Still, there’s something at the back of his head that’s tickled by the impulse to bring the man treats.

It’s not Blue’s to give, but it feels right.

“Blue?” The voice shocks Blue out of his musings. He knows that voice. It’s his- Kara, standing in the doorway.

Blue can feel his face heating as he fights with the instinct to avert his gaze and carefully examine the bedsheets. His Master doesn’t like that, and it’s one of the few behaviors that he’s managed to successfully correct. 

The man stays quiet for a moment before he clears his throat and looks away, it’s only after the moment passes that Blue understands his Master was looking for some kind of response on his part. 

Kara’s quiet as he searches for the right words, looking somewhat sheepish, as though he isn’t well within his rights to disturb his familiar when he hasn’t fully thought through the reason. It’s odd to see from a master. The hesitancy as well as the quietness, it’s… something Blue doesn’t see often from people. Usually Kara makes an effort. He speaks loudly, fueling conversation even when Blue is less than perfectly responsive and makes his steps a little heavier, but there are times like this where his Master just shows up without any indication of his arrival.

Something cold settles in Blue’s chest at that. Just how long had the man been standing there watching his familiar laze about in bed? Had he seen his shameful display? Stars, had his Master seen him kneading?

“I was just checking to see if you were up. You feeling ok?” Kara asks, taking a few hesitant steps into the room.

“Y-yes Master,” Blue answers.

He hates the way he stutters, the way the nervous energy makes it so hard to think straight that he can’t even answer without tripping over his words. It hadn’t been a problem for a while. After the beginning, after Blue had learned more about this Master, it was easier. But he knows that he’s not better yet. That he’s still not good. His chest aches at the thought. This Master has been nothing but kind to him and yet he still jumps and stutters around him. He’s proved himself to be worse than glass.

_At least glass can do its job and be pretty._

“Alright then,” Kara continues, and Blue forces his head up from examining the covers. “You wanna get dressed and head down?”

The words take a moment to register, but Blue can feel the heat rising in his face as he realizes that he’s sitting here, talking to his Master, in nothing but his nightshirt.

Blue opens his mouth to defend himself, give some kind of explanation as to why he was just lazing around in bed when he shouldn’t have been, when his Master had already been up and active. There’s no excuse though. That knowledge has Blue’s teeth clicking against each other as he closes his mouth and moves to scramble out of bed.

The movement proves to be too much, too quickly, as Blue’s leg gets tangled in the sheets. He doesn’t get two feet before he’s tumbling, flailing as he tries to right himself, but the forward momentum sends him over the edge. It’s all Blue can do to shut his eyes instinctively and brace for hitting the ground, but… that doesn’t happen.

He cracks one eye open, but sure enough, he’s not on the bed, he’s just… floating there. Kara’s arms come around him a half second later and whatever magic had kept him from dropping is released. Gravity seems to remember that it’s meant to work, but Blue’s not exactly in a position to complain, not when it allows him an excuse to nuzzle into the man, accepting the way he can pick Blue up and carry him like he weighs nothing.

“Woah, Blue, are you ok?” his Master asks, concern thick in his voice.

Blue’s face burns as Kara supports him with just one arm, the other making soothing circles down his side. He shouldn’t be rewarded for being clumsy, for tripping and nearly hurting himself just to complete an order. He shouldn’t get his Master’s direct attention, or his kindness. He doesn’t deserve them.

“I-I’m fine, Master,” Blue answers quickly. 

It’s the right response. He hasn’t been injured, his Master saved him from falling from the bed. Blue can’t help but be grateful, even if the damage wouldn’t have been too severe.

Kara’s silent at that, considering for a moment as he just holds Blue to his chest.

Blue can’t help but think it’s oddly intimate. He’d never liked getting picked up too much before coming here. It always meant that he was the center of attention, that he was going to be dropped or thrown for some infraction or another, but here… 

Blue curls his arms around his Master. Tentative at first, testing if he’ll be allowed the odd intimacy of holding his Master as well. But then, then as no reproach comes for the breach of conduct, he curls himself closer to his Master’s chest, allowing his hands to find a hold on the fabric of his shirt.

His Master chuckles, a sound that’s warm and happy and so alive because Blue can feel the way the noise resonates in his chest. He might not deserve this, but there’s nothing wrong with taking this while his Master is happy. Blue hasn’t been indulged like this in what feels like a very long time and, while there’s some part of him that’s happy to be receiving so much of his Master’s gentle affection, he knows that it can’t last. Blue breathes deeply, etching his Master’s scent into his mind, trying to transcribe the warm, safe feeling of being held into a memory that he can store against future need.

It’s pathetic and shameless, he knows, but his Master is happy, so it’s not wrong. It’s not. So long as Master is happy then it’s all ok.

Blue nearly whines when he’s set back onto the corner of the bed, his Master’s body pulling away from his. The warmth lingers, and Blue tries to think of it as a good thing and not just a pale memory. Master is smiling. The look doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Blue studiously ignores that. He’s not quite willing to think about what exactly he did wrong to ruin the moment. _His Master is smiling. His Master is happy._ It’s all Blue can do to untangle himself.

“You know that you can tell me if that changes... anytime.” Kara’s tone is light, but there’s something… something that Blue knows he’s missing.

The words are enough of a reminder that Blue can’t stop himself from setting his gaze lower and avoiding his Master’s eyes. It’s only been a few days, but his failure still burns bright in his mind. It had taken so long to be acknowledged, to get Kara to take him seriously when he offered himself in the bedroom. He’d done everything as the man liked and even had that ridiculously long conversation beforehand talking about wants and likes like it mattered. And worse, he’d been the one to say that he wasn’t as fragile as the man thought him to be. He’d been the one to assure his Master that he was ready. He’d been the one to freak out when his Master was being nothing but kind to him. He’d been the one to dredge up old memories and allow the panic and fear to control him when Kara had explicitly told him they’d be going no further.

His Master is still there, still standing right in front of him. Blue doesn’t have to look up to see that, but he can’t tell what the man is still there for. If he was expecting some kind of response it’s already been a more than polite pause. Blue has to bite his lip at the thought. He still doesn’t always get it right, he can’t always tell when what Kara says needs a response from him, but usually his Master rolled over any awkwardness and didn’t force things if it looked like his familiar wasn’t going to be answering.

_Is he watching me?_

The thought comes before Blue can dismiss it and he hates the way it makes him want to cringe away from his Master’s gaze. The man’s been nothing but kind to him, treated him with gentleness he doesn’t deserve, especially after all his failures, but ever since the incident a few days ago and the following disaster in the dissection lab, Blue has felt his Master’s eyes watching more closely. _Waiting for me to break apart into a million pieces again_ , that terrible voice in his head suggests.

The man still sees fit to hold him close, to cuddle him and murmur soothing words. Still allows him in his bed, even if that has a different meaning than what Blue is used to.

Blue knows that he’s good at getting people to like him, or at least like the way he looks. He still hasn’t managed to master the art of provoking his master into genuinely liking him. He’s a pretty asset, but the trouble has always come after he’s been bought, when he’s not someone else’s pretty little pet. When he’s something ogled at a distance he’s always managed to have a greater value. As a tantalizing asset only seen from a distance there’s more mystery and majesty in his presence. 

Once he belongs to a new master it becomes… difficult. Usually, there’s no trouble in getting them to express physical affection, desire… _it’s no trouble to get them to fuck him,_ the voice in his head corrects without trying to find a pretty euphamism. But Kara has been…. different.

Blue’s brought back into reality by the feeling of Kara’s hand in his hair, just petting softly, tangling and brushing through the longest bits. It’s only then that he realizes he’s kneading into Kara’s arm. Blue yanks his hand back like he’s been burned, holding both hands in his lap as he tries to calm his own heartbeat.

_Did he notice? He had to, I was doing it right in front of him._ Blue’s face colors at the thought, but his Master’s hands don’t turn harsh. Blue isn’t reprimanded, he isn’t hit. Kara just presses a kiss to the top of his head before he turns to the closet.

It takes a second for Blue to realize what’s happening. Longer than it should have, but he’s already tentatively given up trying to process the bizarre acts of intimacy that his Master sees fit to bestow upon him at any time. Kara’s picking out clothes for him. 

The realization has Blue pressing his hands together until he can see the whites of his knuckles. His Master shouldn’t be doing that, especially not for him. It’s wrong, but there's absolutely no way to tell his Master that. The man’s just… picking out clothes, while his familiar sits on the bed. It’s not proper, but the man just doesn’t seem to care. Not when he’s picking things out and not when he brings them back, making sure that Blue approves of the choices he made. It’s enough that Blue is sure that his face will never cool, but the man doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t leave Blue to dress now that he’s got his clothes, he kneels, helping Blue pull on the oversized, brightly-colored, thick socks that Blue really should have vetoed while he had the power. His Master helps, dressing him like it’s the only thing he could be doing, as though Blue is something important and precious.

  
  


Though he knows he has his own clothes, he hadn’t stopped Kara when he picked out one of his own jackets to go over his clothes. Kara’s scent makes him feel safe, and Blue likes having the tokens while he can. He likes having the little remnants of his Master’s scent following him, reminding him of the safety that follows.

As adamant as Kara had been about cooking something this morning, the kitchen is remarkably bare. Usually there’s some kind of prep out every time Blue is called upon to test a new dish. Kara explains what’s in it and asks if Blue’s ever not liked the taste of any of the pieces that go into the meals. But now the man pulls some things from the icebox, puttering around to grab bowls and cups.

Blue may not know exactly what his Master is planning on making today, but he is familiar with the ingredients. 

“Master? What are you doing?” Blue can’t help the curiosity in his voice as he looks over Kara’s shoulder at what he’s measuring.

“Well, I wanted you to help me in the kitchen, so I’m just… setting this up,” Kara stumbles, a nervous smile settling on his face.

“You wanted my help?” Blue can’t help the way he prods. He’s curious. He wants to know what they’re making, but he can’t bring himself to ask so flagrantly. Anyhow, Kara doesn’t have to ask in the roundabout way that he does. _He could just order me._ The thought has Blue holding in a laugh. He’s been with this Master long enough to know that he’d never demand such a thing. 

“Well, yeah... I nicked myself pretty good the other day so I’m not going to be too good as a kneader.” He shows off the little bandages around two fingers and the base of his palm as he shrugs, “Plus, I wanted to talk with you…” The second admission comes quieter… more concerning.

Blue was there when he got hurt. One of his beakers in Potions had broken in his hand, and by the way some of his classmates had giggled instead of jumping in surprise... Blue has his doubts that it was an accident. Kara had said that it wasn’t a big deal, that there was no evidence so he shouldn’t worry about it. The memory has Blue biting at his cheek to keep himself from speaking up. _What if he had gotten really hurt? Would he tell me, or would it take him days before he brought it up in some roundabout way like this?_

Blue can’t even begin to decipher the second thing Kara had brought up. _Talk with me? What would he need to talk with me about?_

  
The anxious feelings creeping up Blue’s spine aren’t productive, and he chides himself quietly when he catches himself going to scratch at the inside of his wrist. There are more productive things to focus on. _Master asked for help. He wants to give me a task._

“Kneader? What are you making?” Blue smiles brightly, pushing as far as he dares into his Master’s personal space.

The man likes cooking. It is probably more of a blow than he is showing for him to be unable to participate as much as he wants in this experience. _I will just have to have fun for the both of us._ The thought is ridiculous, but this Master truly does like it when Blue smiles.

“Well, we are still working on building up your culinary knowledge, so today we are making a little treat called biscuits.” Kara’s light, playful tone is entirely undercut but the way the words make Blue’s heart clench painfully.

It’s what the masters had called his bad habit. It was such an odd thing to call it, but no matter how many masters complained about it, they always called it the same thing. They’d said he needed to stop making biscuits on every piece of fabric in the house. It hadn’t made sense the first time he’d heard it, but enough had called it by the same name that he eventually understood. The kneading thing, the soothing gesture that makes him feel so comfortable, that’s what-

Only Kara is still smiling genuinely and there’s nothing Blue can say in the face of that.

It’s not some kind of punishment. He’s not calling attention to his familiar’s inadequacies. It’s fine. It’s just food. Just a food that happens to share the unfortunate name of his bad habit.

“Ok, so we put the butter in the flour and we’re going to mix it together…” Kara says, tossing the two ingredients in the bowl as he turns, opening and closing the cabinet drawers like he’s looking for something.

Whatever it is, Blue's sure Kara will find it. For now, he slides into the space Kara had been occupying just in front of the bowl. He has a task. He’s oddly giddy at the prospect, rolling up the sleeves of his Master’s jacket as he gets ready. His Master had ordered this. He can’t get in trouble for kneading when it’s what Master has ordered. 

It’s an odd sensation as he rolls the ingredients together, squishing the butter outwards to force it to mix with more of the powdery flour. It’s harder than he thought it would be. The butter is harder than it ought to be. It’s cold, something that must have come from it just being removed from the icebox. This did seem like a spur of the moment decision on Kara’s part, so he didn’t have time to let everything get to room temperature.

Blue’s face heats as he turns the sticky floury pieces of butter in his hands. He’s doing his best to break them apart and knead them back together. It is a familiar motion, not quite the same as when he indulges in his bad habit, but very similar. Blue can’t help but wonder if this is why Kara wanted to add this ‘new culinary knowledge’ to his repertoire.

He knows that he doesn’t have the best control over his bad habits, but he’s fairly certain he has caught himself when indulging in front of his Master. He might have risked it when his Master was distracted or sleeping, but he can usually stop himself before he’s found out.

Except… except it hasn’t worked out that way recently. His mind has been such a frayed mess that he honestly can’t say one way or another if his Master has caught him. Kara only seems to involve himself when Blue’s little scratching habit reared its ugly head.

_I was making biscuits on him this morning, his brain oh-so-helpfully reminds him._

_He wouldn’t…_ it couldn't be why they are making biscuits in the kitchen today. Master is not a mean person, he is not cruel and he wouldn’t… tease like this.

“Hey, Blue, that’s enough.” Kara’s voice startles Blue out of his thoughts.

Looking down, it’s all mixed. The butter’s warm and squishy between his fingers, but it’s all mixed up. There are more bowls in the sink than Blue remembers being there at the start, but Kara distracts him with a smaller mixing bowl with the ‘wet ingredients’. He passes Blue the mixing spoon, letting him fold the two together as he works to spread some flour onto a little section of the kitchen counter. The mix is still a little gooey as it’s emptied out of the mixing bowl and Kara dusts the top with a little more flour. 

This is the actual kneading apparently. It certainly feels different from just trying to mash butter and flour together. The sticky mixture clings to Blue’s fingers, but as he keeps up the motions the dough gets smoother, softer and more elastic.

“Hey, you’re pretty good at that,” Kara chuckles and Blue can’t help the blush that rises on his cheeks at the easy praise.

Still, the question lingers in his mind.

“Master… why are we doing this?” Blue nearly bites his tongue for his own daring, but Kara doesn’t seem to mind.

“Because we need something to eat this morning, don’t we?” Kara snickers, brushing away some of the worst of the mess as Blue continues to knead the dough.

“No, I-” Blue stumbles over himself, the words dying in his throat. Why ruin a good thing? His Master is happy, what does it really matter? The specifics are irrelevant and yet, his pause has Kara turning from where he’s wandered.

“What is it?” Kara asks encouragingly, like there’s nothing better about this morning than his familiar’s odd need to ask questions.

“Why the…” Blue hesitates, looking down at the dough in his hand, the familiar, soothing motions he’s making in the dough. “Why b-biscuits?”

“Well, I thought you might like them. They’re buttery and all around really delicious and they are really calming to make.”

Blue’s hands freeze in the dough, all good feelings gone from his body in an instant.

“W-why would y-you…” Blue has to stop himself, take a steadying breath before he even tries to pull together some version of a comprehensible sentence. “M-Master, w-what do you mean by that?”

Kara wouldn’t. He wouldn’t trap him like this. He wouldn’t make it a spectacle like this, pretend it was all fine just to punish him for his inappropriate behavior. Most of Blue’s masters had tried to solve the problem in a more traditional way, beating or, after a few failed corrections, taking a switch to his palms so it would hurt when he tried to do it again. None of it stuck. None of it kept him from repeating the bad habit.

This wasn’t painful, not like that, but it would hurt all the same. It would hurt and his Master would laugh and no matter what, the sweet comforting space of the kitchen would always carry the strain of it. Blue would need to learn to watch himself a little more closely, remind himself to behave even when it looked like his Master was happy.

The thought has Blue blinking tears away. He’d just gotten back into the kitchen after what felt like a lifetime. He doesn’t want to leave the good feelings it holds behind just because of a stupid mistake.

“There are some people who like kneading,” his Master answers, voice surprisingly serious after the previous moments of levity, “there are some who hate it more than anything else. Either way it keeps your hands busy and lets you think, or focus on not thinking if that’s what you prefer.”

Master’s hands cover Blue’s where they’re just resting in the dough, and he can’t help the way he flinches back. 

Master pulls his hands back, not leaving entirely, just pulling at the edge of the dough ball, squishing it between two fingers before continuing. “You can let yourself think, knowing that you can’t run off to go do something for at least ten minutes, or you can decompress and just focus on the way the dough changes texture.”

“M-master-” Blue stumbles, not knowing what he wants to say, but he knows he wants his Master to stop. 

Blue knows what Kara sounds like when he’s talking around something and, for once, Blue doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to know and he doesn’t want to have to think about the consequences. Blue can pretend. He can pretend that they were just making food here. He can pretend that Kara just wanted to show him another type of baked good, something buttery, something to make him smile because for some reason his Master seems to like that more than anything else and he-

“Do you like this?” Kara asks, his tone is still low, still innocent and still frustratingly devoid of any anger. Blue bites at the inside of his cheek in frustration, wishing not for the first time that the man was easier to read. 

“I-I-” Blue’s voice catches in his throat but Kara stops him.

“Blue, breathe,” he instructs, pressing a hand to his familiar’s chest while the other finds the same place on his back, steadying him until he can string together more coherent words.

“I don’t mean to be bad,” Blue gasps just as soon as he’s physically able. He regrets it. He’s so busy trying to pull air into his demanding lungs that he can’t properly explain himself

“There’s nothing bad about it,” his Master soothes, and it’s so much like every other time he’s soothed his useless, malfunctioning familiar that Blue almost just leans into his Master’s body and ignores the words in favor of his warm stabilizing presence. “If you like this. If this helps you focus or makes you feel comfortable, then there’s nothing bad about it, understand?”

The words are nice, even if they are flawed. There is something bad about his habits. They cause his Master trouble, the one thing any familiar, any pet, ought not do. The only thing holding Blue upright is Kara’s hands and his own white knuckled grip on the counter as he tries to voice the problem.

“B-but if- if you-” Blue’s breath is coming in hiccupy gasps as he tries to get his breathing under control. 

“What do I have to do with it?” his Master asks, drawing soothing circles into his back, the hand on his chest a gentle reminder to breathe deeply and slowly.

It takes Blue a second, a deep breath and a slightly less graceful exhale before he’s confident he can speak.

“If you don’t-” He stops himself, chewing at his bottom lip before choosing a new direction, “I’m bad, I’m bad if you don’t like it.”

“Blue,” Kara sighs, and though he’s still speaking softly Blue can hear the huff, the frustration he can imagine building in the man. “Blue, I want you to look at me.”

His Master waits, making no move to force Blue to comply. With a start, Blue realizes the only way he could force compliance would be to take one of his hands away from where they are stabilizing his familiar. It’s not fair that he should make his Master wait. This Master gives so few orders that they really should all be taken care of immediately.

When he lifts his head, Blue isn’t met with anger, disgust, or frustration from the man he’s forced to hold him through yet another episode of high emotions. In fact, Kara doesn’t even look all that bothered to be holding his familiar in the middle of the kitchen because he couldn’t handle making a treat. While he does look a little lost in thought, once Blue looks up at him, he smiles. He smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Blue’s head like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Blue can’t help the blush that rises on his cheeks.

“We are not the same person. I don’t expect you to like the same things I do and hate what I hate. We are seperate people and even if I were to find it annoying- which I don’t- that doesn’t mean that you need to stop anything. It makes you happy and you deserve things that make you happy. There’s no reason to feel any kind of shame or guilt. If it makes you happy, it makes you happy. I just wish you’d talk to me about it.”

“They said it was bad.” It comes out of Blue in a rush, before he’s even decided what he’s going to say. “I can’t stop myself, the behavior… it’s there and I don’t even have to think about it.” Blue bites at his bottom lip, hating how easily the admission had come. What will his Master think now? _An untrainable misbehaving pet that can’t even-_

“Yeah, I was reading up on that, those animal trait instincts that run so prevalently in familiars,” Kara says without giving any more explanation, his attention entirely diverted as he scratches behind Blue’s ears.

“It’s not-” Blue hesitates, looking up at his Master’s eyes, seeing the genuine interest, the confusion at Blue’s half formed words, “just me…?”

“Stars, no! Blue, I’m sure everyone has their own instincts, no matter how much they claim to ignore it. Avery probably does a lot of the same things you do, and Ande probably has a whole list of weird bear things that he wants to do all the time.”

“You were reading up on it?” Blue prods once more, unsure why his Master would have been researching such an odd topic.

“Well, yeah. You wake up one too many times getting kneaded and you start to get curious.”

_No, no I didn’t-_ Blue can feel his face heat as he opens and closes his mouth with no discernible pattern, trying to come up with some kind of defense for his behaviour. Somehow, in this whole mess he’d forgotten just how light a sleeper Kara is.

“Aww, come on, it was very cute kneading.” Kara pulls his hands back, showing his palms in a universal gesture of ‘no ill will’. 

“Let’s just put these biscuits in the oven.” Blue huffs, momentarily mourning the loss of Kara’s hold.

“Oh, hell no.”

“What?” The question’s out of Blue’s mouth before he can think about it. Why would they have done so much work if they weren’t going to make biscuits?

“We’re putting these in,” Kara explains, pulling a sheet of perfectly cut doughy circles from the icebox before motioning to the lump in Blue’s hands. “Those are going to turn into glue.”

“What?” Blue asks again, confused for an entirely different reason now.

“In order to get them all flakey and crunchy you need the butter to be super cold when you’re cutting it into the flour. All the wet ingredients need to be kept pretty cold when they’re added too, just so that you don’t melt anything too much. You can’t overwork the dough, because your hands are warm and everything’ll turn into a mess. Really you only want to knead until it’s not sticky anymore and retains a good shape,” Kara explains as he pops the tray in the oven.

“You…” Blue stops, pointing an accusatory finger in Kara’s direction as he tries to pull together some kind of insult that will carry the weight of the frustration he feels. The blush only deepens as Kara seems to laugh at the action.

“Hey, it was fun, right?” Kara asks, still giggling as he opens his arms for a hug. “Do you feel better?”

Blue presses his lips together in a hard line and huffs, but the temptation is too much. It doesn’t help that his Master is warm, or that his scent is comforting… or that he gives the best hugs that Blue’s ever had. It’s easy, familiar in such an unfamiliar way to press against him, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces.

Blue nods against Kara’s chest, unwilling to lift his head or abandon the warm, safe space that he’s just entered.

He glances over at the timer that Kara had set.

15 minutes. _I can stay like this until then._

**Author's Note:**

> Biscuit recipe:  
> 3 cups all-purpose flour  
> 3 tbsp sugar  
> 1/2 tsp salt  
> 4 tsp baking powder  
> 1/2 tsp cream of tartar  
> 3/4 cup COLD butter  
> 1 egg  
> 1 cup whole milk
> 
> cook at 450 degrees F for 15 minutes  
> \- the secret to good biscuits is COLD BUTTER- often times the dough gets worked over so much that the butter softens before the biscuits even go in the oven.
> 
> Love you all!


End file.
